Without A Shelter From The Storm
by DreamerInHerOwnWorld
Summary: "She's sitting on the steps of an old Jewish synagogue, almost invisible to the rush of people that surround her, scurrying about their everyday lives; but to him, it's literally like she's the only one there, like a shot in a movie where she's in clear focus and everyone else are just extras, blurred out in the foreground and background." AU, Homeless Finchel
1. Chapter 1

**Well, hello everyone and welcome to my new fic! This one's been brewing in my mind for a while and I've got it all planned out, so I'm hoping updates will be pretty frequent.**

**This story was originally inspired by the song Feed The Birds from Mary Poppins and also by an episode of The Sarah Jane Adventures, although I'm not quite sure how it turned into this!**

**It's quite dark compared to my previous stories, but I hope you like it.**

**Disclaimer: Glee is not mine...**

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The sharp slam of a door cuts through the quiet night air in Lima, Ohio. It's followed by the sound of it being wrenched open again a second later, and a desperate voice shouts into the street.

"Finn, come back! Honey, please, let me talk to you about this! Finn, please, listen to me! Sweetie!"

Finn pretends he can't hear his mother's voice cracking as she yells after him. Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, he continues striding forcefully down the street, barely noticing where he's going as betrayal and anger eat up his insides. He aims a kick at a nearby wall in frustration and reels back, pain shooting through his foot and adding to his rage.

"Finn?" he turns around, cursing himself for doing so when he sees Mr Berry, one of his mom's friends, looking at him curiously.

"What?" his reply is short and curt.

"You alright, son? Where are you in such a rush to get to?"

He's known Mr Berry since he was about 8, when he and his husband first moved to Lima from Toledo. The concern on the older man's face is making him frustrated and he's struggling to keep his rage at bay.

"Just going for a walk," he lies quickly, wanting nothing more than to get away.

Fortunately, Mr Berry seems to believe him as he smiles and nods. Finn manages not shrug his hand off when he feels Mr Berry pat him on the shoulder.

"I'll see you around. Take care of yourself, son."

The second Mr Berry walks past him, Finn's off and then he's running, faster and harder than he ever has in his life. His lungs are burning for oxygen and his heart is pounding but he has to get away; has to rid his body of this toxic feeling of hatred that threatens to consume him. The soles of his feet are slapping against the tarmac as the anger bubbling inside converts to energy. All he knows is he has to get as far away as possible because he can't take this.

He _can't_.

He runs and runs until his body feels like it just can't go on anymore and then he has to stop, collapsing on the sidewalk, his head in his hands and his chest heaving with exertion.

A bus comes rattling along the road and he jumps up and throws out his arm, signalling for it to stop. When it comes to a halt, he heaves himself off the ground and through the doors, thrusting some money at the driver and heading for a seat at the back of the bus.

His feet tap against the floor, his fingers drum against his thigh. He has to keep himself moving because if he doesn't he'll explode. He's completely wired – one split-second away from a mental breakdown.

Resting his head against the window pane, he lets the feeling of the cool condensation calm him a little, taking deep breaths. Inhale; exhale. Inhale; exhale…

When he lifts his head, exactly two-hundred deep breaths later, it feels a little clearer. Not much better but, on the other hand, he thinks he might actually be able to function enough to not kick everything he sees.

The glass of the window is completely fogged up with condensation, and he pulls his jacket sleeve over his arm, using it to wipe a small circle and pressing his face against it to peer outside. It's pitch black out there, with the occasional interruption of light as streetlights flash past.

The bus begins to slow down and Finn notices the lights outside are becoming more and more frequent, presumably because they're approaching a town. He suddenly notices how hungry he is, when his stomach lets out an enormous growl.

He supposes he'd better try and find something to eat, so he gets up and gets the driver's attention. When the bus stops, the doors open and a rush of cold air hits him in the face as he steps out onto the dimly-lit street.

The bus rattles off again, and he's left standing on the sidewalk, still getting his bearings as the thrumming of its engine becomes quieter and quieter until he can no longer hear it.

There are a few people wandering around, and Finn follows the road with no real sense of direction, heading towards the babble of noise he can hear a few streets away. People are stumbling around, yelling far too loudly for this time of night. It's the sort of scene you see in movies: people everywhere, drunk off their asses and trying to get home.

Home.

The word just makes him want to punch something right now because home is supposed to be with people who love you and care about you and don't _lie _to you for your entire life and tell you you're destined for great things when really, when it comes to it and they finally decide to tell you the truth about eighteen years too late, your dad was a screw-up and that's all you're ever going to amount to because that's who you are.

Finn thinks of Ms Pillsbury, the guidance counsellor at school, and what she'd say if she knew what a fucked up loser his dad was.

Maybe she did know. Maybe everybody knew and they've been stringing him along, telling him 'You can do this, Finn,' and 'You're great at that, Finn,' when really they know he's just another Lima loser.

Thinking about his mom hurts. It hurts so, so much. The only thing he's ever wanted was to be a hero like his dad so he could make her proud. And now it turns out that his dad was a druggie and his mom's a liar.

He never thought she'd lie to him, you know? She's the only person he's really had, his whole life. See, he and his mom were a team. She'd told him she loved him, while lying to his face the entire time.

The vibration in his pocket startles him and he reflexively pulls his phone out to look at it. His mom's calling him, and he takes a deep breath as he watches her name flashing on the caller ID, his hands shaking.

The call's about to go to voicemail when he finally answers it, not speaking, just accepting the call and holding the phone to his ear, his breathing uneven.

"Finn? Finny, is that you?" It kills him to hear his mom's voice like that, but at the same time hearing it just brings back the betrayal a thousand times stronger.

"Finn, I know you're listening to me and I want to you know I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

His right hand clenches around the phone and his left hand balls up into a fist. He sucks in another breath, trying everything to stop himself from exploding.

"Just come home, Finn. Just come home. We can work something out – we can do whatever, just please, Finn, please. Come home. Please, just come back so I know you're safe. Finn, please –"

His finger stabs the 'end call' button, cutting off the pleading voice of his mom, her voice shaking with tears.

Anger swells up in him again and he throws his phone away from him into the street. It shatters at the impact when it hits the tarmac and he feels a surge of satisfaction now that he's cut the connection entirely.

He loved his mom, he really did. But that was before.

Now he hates her. He hates her. He hates her, he hates her, he _hates _her for doing this to him, for making him feel this way and now he just feels fucking guilty on top of everything else, like everything wasn't bad enough before he made his mom cry and beg.

He wants her to hurt – he wants her to feel just a tiny bit of the pain she made him feel. But it's not working because now it's hurting him too, her broken pleading down the phone replaying in his head over and over.

All these feelings swirling around seem to accumulate and clump together as a hard knot in his chest, pulling tighter and tighter and tighter, and he feels like he can't breathe. The weight of it is becoming too much; it hurts too damn much and Finn sinks to the ground, burying his face in his arms and finally giving way to harsh sobs which rip out of him, his entire body shaking.

It's hours before he looks up again, forcing away the salty tears. The sky's still dark, but it's quieter. Seems like the drunkards finally stumbled away and passed out.

Heaving himself to his feet, he begins to wander aimlessly along the road, past parked cars and derelict shop windows. Now that he's cried some of the hurt out, he actually feels a little better. He likes this freedom.

Sticking a hand in his pocket, he fumbles for some change when he notices a tiny, dimly-lit café on the street corner.

The bell jingles loudly when he pushes open the old wooden door and he's greeted with the sight of a short man with circles under his eyes and a scruffy beard.

"Can I get you something?" The guy offers, jerking his head towards the counter.

Finn hands the man some change and buys himself a large hot-dog. It's actually lukewarm but he's not complaining because he's kind of really hungry.

"What you doing here at this time of night, kid?" The owner eyes him curiously, and he notices the clock over the counter for the first time and sees that it's past 3am.

"I ran away," Finn answers shortly.

"Hm," The other man makes a sort-of uninterested grunting noise, nodding.

"They treat you bad at home?" he asks.

Finn shakes his head.

"But you ain't going back right?"

The million dollar question. And it kills Finn because he knows, he knows right away what his answer is. Because his entire world has been shaken. And the people who he held closest to him are the ones who've turned it upside-down. He can't trust them.

He wants to break down again when he realises the truth. He has nobody.

So he shakes his head again.

"No. I'm not going back home."

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**Hmm... I wasn't actually going to end it there, but it sounded like a good place to stop. Don't worry, Rachel will make her entrance very soon. Reviews make my day! Thanks for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for your encouraging reviews of the last chapter. I was going to try and make this one really long, but I get impatient when I can't finish an update, so this fic is going to have to be in shorter chapters. Having said that, this chapter is actually pretty long for me! This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful friend Abbey (IThinkIJusTGleedMyself) for her enthusiasm and helpful encouragement.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

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Finn's breath puffs out in little white clouds as he exits the dimly-lit café, an hour or so later. It's March, so it's supposed to be getting warmer but at the moment winter seems unwilling to give in and the night air is making him shiver.

The street is still pretty much deserted, so he wanders along it with his hands stuffed in his pockets and his sweater-vest zipped up as high as it will go.

He doesn't feel too bad now.

Part of that is the feeling of two warm hot-dogs inside him, but he thinks that mostly it's because he's made his decision and he can't feel guilty about it.

If he lets himself think rationally, or even think about his family, he knows his emotions will get the better of him again, so he tampers them down and pushes them away, determined not to think about it. Now that he's decided he's not returning, he doesn't have to face his family so there's no need to face his feelings about them either.

Finn picks up his pace to try and keep warm. There's an ATM not too far down the road, so he heads towards its illuminated sign.

Can they track you using your card? He's not sure on that one, but he inserts it anyway, withdrawing all the money in his account. In total, it's only about 200 dollars, but he can't access his savings without going to a bank, and he can't go to the bank if he's trying to lay low.

He knows his mom will have people out looking – hell, she'll probably phone the police. And the last thing he wants now is for some cop to come and drag him home like a naughty little schoolboy. He's eighteen – he's old enough to make his own decisions, okay?

So he needs to disappear.

Stuffing the cash in his pocket, Finn ambles through the city streets. The sun's starting to rise, not so much that he can see it, but enough that the sky's gradually growing lighter around him.

He stumbles upon a small park, just outside the main city. It looks pretty secluded and there's a small woodland area with plenty of trees which he thinks could make a reasonable temporary shelter. He used to be a boy-scout for a while; he knows these survival skill things.

Tripping over a few tree roots and fallen branches, Finn wanders through the small wood until he finds a tree with two enormous roots quite close together. It's a passable bed, for now.

His mind is fogging over with exhaustion and he suddenly feels like he's about to collapse. Turns out that running away from your family and practically having an emotional breakdown is pretty tiring.

He sinks down onto the ground, remembering to put his wallet in the zippable pocket of his sweater-vest because he has no idea what he'd do if he woke up to find someone had robbed him in his sleep. That money is the only thing he has, and whilst it can't hug him or make him breakfast (his mom makes the best blueberry pancakes), it's not going to betray him either. It can't hurt him, he can trust it, and besides, it's his only means of survival and, yes, basically the most important thing he has right now so he's not taking any chances.

He shivers, thankful that he chose a reasonably secluded spot because this winter wind is actually really harsh against his skin and his fingers are losing their feeling at the ends.

Curling up as best he can between the two giant tree roots, Finn rests his head on the trunk of the tree and wraps his arms around himself.

He kids himself it's to keep warm but it's mostly to keep himself from falling apart.

Thoughts of family and friends are pushed from his mind; he mentally locks them all away.

He's on his own now.

Despite the rough bark of the tree scraping uncomfortably against his cheek, he feels his eyelids growing heavy and he eventually drops off into an uneasy sleep.

...

Shouting voices wake him up, and he squints as he opens his eyes.

The events of the day before flood back into his mind and he feels another surge of anger which he has to swallow down before he can think straight.

His neck kills. It feels stiff against the tree trunk – he's been lying in the same position all night and it's coming back to bite him now. Rolling his head forward, he groans at the ache in his muscles and the chill at the tips of his fingers.

Slowly, he begins to stretch each part of his body, loosening them up and attempting to get his blood circulating properly again. Sometimes he hates being so tall because his limbs just never seem to fit comfortably anywhere and right now he's got pins and needles in his left arm and his back is hurting like a bitch.

Okay, first thing he needs to do is find some sort of crappy motel that charges, like, five dollars a night or something, because he's _not _waking up in this much pain every day.

When he emerges from the trees, he gets a proper look at the park. It's bigger than he realised – there's a kids' adventure play area and some kind of pond or small lake that he can see in the far corner.

There are a kids running around at the moment, so he guesses it's mid-morning, perhaps ten or eleven. He works out that it's Saturday, which makes sense, seeing as it looks like the people there are mostly families.

"Dada!" the cry comes from a small boy, who looks about five. He's crying on the dirt path, his hand clutching his freshly grazed knee.

Finn watches as the kid's dad runs towards him, checking him over and then scooping him up, kissing his forehead and swinging him round until he's laughing instead of crying.

It hurts, seeing people like that. Little kids with their dads. Happy families.

He heads back out of the park and wanders around until he finds the main street again. The best place to hide is in a crowd, right?

His stomach growls and he spies a Seven-Eleven, so he goes and buys himself a massive bag of potato chips and a sandwich. It's not the nicest food he's ever eaten, but he's hungry and it's cheap.

He eats it slowly, sitting on the edge of a fountain and watching the traffic speed past around him, filling the city with noise and pollution. He likes it. The anonymity of being in such a big, unfamiliar place is so refreshing. In Lima, it's like he's suffocating sometimes from the constant claustrophobia of being in such a small town that he can't go anywhere without seeing about five people he knows – and usually the five people that he least wants to see at that moment.

A strange sound floats towards his ears amidst the hustle and bustle and honking car horns. It's not a bad sound at all – just discordant with the rest of the sounds of the city.

It sounds like… there's someone singing. Finn strains his ears to listen harder.

The voice is beautiful, filled with a haunting passion and sadness which somehow combine and cause the hairs on his arms to stand on end. It honestly sounds like nothing he's ever heard before – angelic and powerful and emotional.

His head whips around, searching desperately for the owner of this voice so he can hear more. The direction it's coming from seems to be somewhere to his right, so he stands up and follows the sound, scanning the area.

And then he sees her.

She's sitting on the steps of an old Jewish synagogue, almost invisible to the rush of people that surround her, scurrying about their everyday lives; but to him, it's literally like she's the only one there, like a shot in a movie where she's in clear focus and everyone else are just extras, blurred out in the foreground and background.

He finds himself moving towards her, needing to get a closer look without all these people wandering past and blocking his view.

When he finally manages to cross the road, he just stands at the bottom of the steps, staring like an idiot, his heart clenching.

Her long, brown hair is hanging limply over her shoulders, straggling down her back. Her long dress is varying dirty shades of brown and grey, and her cardigan is torn at the elbows. The shoes she's wearing look battered, like they're falling off her feet.

But his eyes are fixated on her face, the only part of her which looks relatively clean. Her eyes are screwed tight shut as she sings, the melancholy sound pouring from her mouth.

Finn stands there, letting himself absorb her voice as it somehow curls itself inside him, leaving a warm, comforting feeling in his heart. The last note of her song dies away and his heart leaps into his mouth as she opens her eyes to look directly at him.

Her deep chocolate eyes are shining and he feels this strange pull in his gut, like there's some kind of magnetic force resonating between them. He feels like he needs to go and talk to her, needs to be with her. But she's a complete stranger.

He has no idea what to do, so he turns and runs, as quickly as possible in the other direction.

...

He finds himself back at the park, and he throws himself down under another tree, breathing heavily.

He's never felt anything like that in his life before – intense and terrifying and saddening and wonderful at the same time, all from just making eye contact.

Those eyes… he closes his own to try and bring a mental picture of the girl to the forefront of his mind. Thinking about her in detail makes his chest feel funny, almost like he wants to cry. From the way she was dressed, and the small jar by her side, he can tell she doesn't have a home. She looks like she's been roughing it for a long while – not just because of her grimy appearance either.

It's in the way that her hair hangs by her sides, limp and lifeless; it's in the way her dress is too long and her cardigan is too short; it's in the frayed sleeves and holey elbows of her cardigan. And it was in the way that she looked at him.

Even across the steps, through the crowd of oblivious people, her cry for help was obvious, desperate. From her size, he imagines she's perhaps twelve or thirteen, but her face is so much older – not the features, but the expression of pain they were bent into as she poured her heart out through the notes emitting from her mouth.

He sits there and thinks and remembers and reflects, and possibly even dozes a little, and when he looks up, dusk is falling across the park, lengthening the shadows of the people across the grass, the people who are beginning to make their way home.

It's not as cold tonight, but after last night, Finn's certain that he doesn't want to sleep outdoors again, she he stands up, stretches and goes in search of shelter.

A couple of hours later, he finally spots a flickering neon sign down an alleyway off to the side from the main street. The alley smells, and it's not the sort of place that anyone would want to hang about in, but Finn reckons his size is a good advantage if anyone does sneak up on him or something.

At first, he thinks the door isn't going to open but, when he shoves harder, it swings forward and he finds himself standing on a cheaply carpeted floor, in a small room with a reception desk and a flickering light above it.

Honestly, the whole place looks like something out of a bad horror movie, but in terms of keeping himself as private as possible, it's probably exactly what he needs.

Awkwardly, he clears his throat to catch the attention of the woman at the desk, who looks half-asleep.

She makes an odd grunting sound, jerking her head up and fixating him with a bored gaze.

"I-I'm, um, looking for a room."

The woman looks at him questioningly, and Finn decides he needs to be clear and confident about this, if he's going to get what he needs.

"I want to stay here as long as I can, so I'll pay you nightly," he offers.

The woman turns her attention to an old book in front of her.

"Room 28 is free," she tells him, unhooking a key from the board behind her and putting it down on the desk.

"Great."

Finn nods, handing over a some money and accepting the key.

"Thanks," he nods at the woman again, and she turns her head away, burying it back in some trashy novel which had been lying on the desk beside her.

He finds Room 28, after two flights of disgustingly smelly stairs and turns the light on with some trepidation as he enters.

It doesn't look too bad, he decides. Sure, everything's covered in dust and it could be a lot cleaner, but at least the bedsheets look unused, and the basin in the corner works when he tries it.

There's even a tiny window, next to the table with the dead pot plant on it.

The room reminds him a little of his friend Sam's place. Sam's dad lost his job and their whole family ended up living in a motel pretty much like this one after their house was repossessed. Finn went there a couple of times to help Sam out with his little brother and sister, back when….

Back then.

He feels moisture collecting at the corners of his eyes, and lets himself believe it's because of the dust until he's stripped down to his underwear and crawled into the lumpy bed. Then he admits they're tears as he lets them roll down his face.

Because Sam may not have had a house, but his family made that crappy motel room their home.

Finn presses his lips together and pulls his legs up to curl into a ball, willing himself to sleep so he doesn't have to hurt.

His last thought before he loses consciousness is of those wide, deep brown eyes, and when he finally sleeps, he dreams of that girl's voice, imagining she's singing him a lullaby.

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**So, Rachel's made her appearance. She'll be featuring a lot more very soon. Please review - the more interest I get, the sooner I will update!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry about this chapter being late - it's been a slow one to write and then I was on holiday for half of this month. Thank you so much to all of you who reviewed the last chapter. Your support really does mean a lot to me! **

**I've upped the rating for this fic to M because of the occasional swearing and also for future plot points. However, I think a lot of the chapter's will probably be more T-rated for now.**

**Disclaimer: Glee isn't mine.**

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Weeks pass – possibly even months. It's so easy to lose track of time when you're avoiding everybody and everything, and soon each day just blurs into the next, all of them passing with the same dull routine: get up, do nothing, maybe buy some food, do nothing, pay the rent, do nothing, go to sleep…

The problem is, being alone with his thoughts is really not something Finn wants to deal with right now. He ends up spending a lot of time wandering aimlessly around the streets; sometimes following one road and seeing how far he can get; sometimes turning left at every corner; sometimes counting the number of stop lights or the number of cafes. It keeps him from going insane with boredom, at least.

Whatever he decides to do, there's always one place he always ends up. Every day, no matter what direction he sets off in, his feet will start leading him down the familiar sidewalk of the main street until he finds himself in front of the synagogue.

After that first day he saw her, he's always tried to stay as discreet as possible – sitting just around the corner or just behind a parked car or something. He doesn't want her to think he's some kind of creepy pervert, coming to watch her every day like this, but it's just… when she sings, everything seems just that little bit better – a tiny bit more hopeful – and the memory of her voice gets him through those quiet nights alone in his damp, empty hotel room. It's basically the only thing that keeps him sane. So, yeah, he'll sit there listening to her sing for hours, and when she's not singing, he'll watch as she holds up her tiny jar out towards the businessmen and families who hurry past her, rarely stopping to even send a friendly smile her way, let alone take a second to donate even the tiniest bit of spare change.

Okay, Finn gets that people are wary of homeless people, but can't they see how desperate this little girl is? It doesn't stop his heart aching a little when he sees her defeated expression as people pass by, her miniscule form curled up on the cold stone.

He wishes he could do something but every time he thinks about approaching her he remembers that terrifying feeling of being sucked in by the way her eyes bored into his, and it's like a thousand reasons why he should just leave her alone rush into his head and stay there until it starts to get dark and he forces himself to look away, heaving his heavy bones off the ground and heading back to the motel, where he'll sleep fitfully, his dreams plagued with nightmares and hate, until the sun begins to filter through the dirty window and he has to get up, go out and begin the whole thing again.

Until, one evening, everything changes.

"This isn't enough."

His heart sinks as the receptionist voices aloud the words he knew were coming.

"I know. I – I don't have any more."

She looks at him, her expression bored.

"But I could, like, work for you or something? You know, I could maybe clean or lift stuff? I'll do anything you want me to do."

He thought up the plan last night, when he counted through the dollar bills over and over, hoping he was somehow adding them up wrong, until he'd thrown them down on the carpet in frustration, finally forced to accept that he couldn't afford the next night's rent.

The receptionist just continues to look unimpressed.

"We don't take on anybody."

"But you must need someone, right?"

Desperation creeps into his tone – he's not even above begging. This place is literally the only thing he has right now.

"Come on – there's gotta be something I can do. I'm tall and I'm strong and I can, like, fix stuff. You don't have to pay me anything – just let me stay here, please."

The large woman finally raises her eyes to meet his, her tone completely flat.

"Sorry, kid. We're not hiring. You've just gotta find somewhere else to stay."

And just like that, Finn's suddenly homeless.

He nods dumbly, staring at the receptionist who simply buries her nose rudely back into her book, completely ignorant of the fact that he's literally seconds away from a meltdown.

In a trance, he turns and exits the main door of the motel. The dark alleyway suddenly seems a whole lot more threatening than it ever was before.

His fist slides into his pocket and clenches around 18 dollars, 63 cents and an empty Sour Patch Kids wrapper: his only possessions left in the whole world right now.

Finn slides down against the wall, oblivious to the pungent smell of old pee as his head swirls with a mixture of depression and panic. Closing his eyes, he takes a few deep breaths, trying to come to terms with the fact that he literally has nowhere else to go.

A harsh, bitter laugh escapes him when he realises he already probably looks like a hobo. He hasn't shaved in forever, and the rough stubble on his chin is quickly turning into a scruffy beard. He's been wearing the same clothes too – although he did attempt to wash them in the shower at least. Sitting against the wall in some creepy alley that stinks of piss, Finn comes to the conclusion that he seems to have taken on the role of hobo much faster than he'd intended.

Suddenly everything is so _shit_ that it's utterly hysterical and he just can't stop laughing. He finds his way back to the Seven Eleven and grabs the cheapest couple of 6-packs of beer he can find. The cashier looks at him like he's a complete nutcase, which just makes him laugh harder, but at least with his semi-beard he looks old enough for the guy to sell him the alcohol.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows that blowing most of his money on beer is completely stupid, but he needs something to dull the despair. He can deal with that in the morning.

Sitting on the wall outside, he cracks open the first can, downs it in a few gulps and grabs the next. With each swig he takes, he can feel his senses blurring and soon he's stumbling down the street, still letting out loud bursts of laughter periodically.

By the time he's shaking the twelfth can, desperately trying to get the last drop out, he's lost awareness of pretty much everything and the town is just a hazy blur of lights.

He's drunk and he's homeless and _yep I just proved everyone right, I'm the biggest fuck-up, even more than my dad, no wonder I was always gonna be a Lima loser, oh-my-God-this-is-hilarious_….

It's a while before he realises that somewhere along the line, his hysterical laughter has dissolved into hysterical tears and now he's curled up on the sidewalk bawling his eyes out and drunk out of his mind.

The last thing he thinks, in his drunken stupor, is that at least he proved them right. He's lived up to his loser DNA and done what he always told them he would: made absolutely nothing of his life.

Eventually, the hazy lights turn into a blurry darkness, and that's that.

...

He feels like he got run over by a monster truck. In fact, it's more like the truck ran him over once, then turned round and came back for another go.

When he tries to sit up gingerly, his head pounds so fiercely that he has to lie it back down and close his eyes for a moment until he no longer feels like he's about to throw up. His eyes squint as he attempts to open them.

There's a thick fog permeating his brain, making it hard for him to think about anything through the haze of confusion, but his senses are returning quickly and there are loud car horns and sirens and people's voices making him wince at their volume.

As his senses slowly return, he becomes aware of the cold, hard ground his head is resting on and, when he manages to open his eyes without feeling like his retinas are burning off, the first thing he sees is cars rushing past and he jumps up in shock because they look close enough to almost run him over.

Getting up so fast really wasn't a good idea. His head swirls and he stumbles dizzily against the wall behind him. Bile rises up in his throat and he turns around, stumbling again and falling down onto his hands and knees as he begins to retch. He heaves and then promptly empties the contents of his stomach all over the sidewalk.

Wiping his mouth, Finn waits a few moments, breathing deeply until he feels confident enough that he's done and then he stands up slowly. His head's still a little fuzzy and the bitter taste of vomit in his mouth kind of makes him want to throw up again, but he's feeling remarkably better than he did a few minutes ago.

Slumping against the brick wall, he looks around and realises he was literally lying on the sidewalk on the corner of an alley. If he looks to his left, he can see the main street of the city and on his right, the alley continues down to the motel.

Thinking about the motel causes the events of last night to piece together in his mind and he groans as he remembers everything.

Great. First night as a homeless person and he spent it getting so drunk he passed out and then woke up lying in an alleyway that absolutely reeks and threw up on the ground. Nice one, Hudson.

His head is pounding so badly that he needs to do something to relieve it or he's actually gonna pass out again, so he drags himself slowly back towards the Seven Eleven. He breathes a sigh of relief when he realises the salesperson is a different guy to the one here last night – you know, the one who would probably call the men in white coats to take him away.

Checking in his pocket, he discovers he must have spent 8 dollars on the beer and he curses himself for being such an idiot. He's got ten dollars and sixty three cents left. Make that seven dollars and twelve cents by the time he's bought a massive bottle of water and the biggest sandwich he can find. What he really, really would kill for is some aspirin but he really can't afford that, so he's just gonna hope that the food and the water do the trick.

Of course, he finds himself sitting outside the synagogue again, sipping at the water and watching the girl. He closes his eyes, letting the sound of her voice wash over him, temporarily cleansing the pain from his mind and soothing him until he's oddly peaceful and he can feel himself slowly slipping deeper and deeper out of consciousness.

Finn dozes for a while, letting his head rest against the cool stone of the corner of the steps. When he wakes up, the remnants of his headache are still there and his stomach is growling, but the nap has done wonders in terms of improving his general feeling.

Well, the nap and the girl.

He takes a glance up the steps and sees her there, holding her dress bunched up in one small fist to stop it blowing up in the wind. Even from a distance, she's visibly shivering and he can see that the jar next to her has very little or no money in it.

The pathetic sight of her tiny figure dwarfed in front of the enormous stone building tugs at his heart unbearably. This girl needs someone to do something.

The urge to approach her rises up and he starts to force it back down again automatically before he stops himself. Okay, so he's got no home and no clothes except the ones he's wearing but he's got seven dollars and twelve cents and he's betting that's a fucking lot more than she does.

He's got to help her.

Ignoring the irrational fear as he remembers the feeling from the first time he saw her, he lets his eyes travel down to the half-eaten sandwich on his lap. His stomach gurgles because he's been trying so hard not to devour it all in one go, saving it so it lasts him as long as possible, but the idea of finishing it off when there's a tiny girl starving just metres away from him fills him with so much guilt it makes him feel a little sick.

Awkwardly, he stands up, stretching his legs, and begins to ascend the steps. The girl's humming to herself – he can hear her voice carried on the wind as he gets closer – so she doesn't hear him approach.

"Hey."

She whips around, jumping and instantly shuffling away from him.

"No – no – it's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanted to, um, give you this."

Finn holds up the half-eaten sandwich, extending his arm towards the girl and she looks up at him curiously, confusion written all over her face. From closer up, he realises she must be older than he first thought. She's miniscule, yes, but her face is more grown-up than a child's and he can see the soft curve of her chest when the wind blows her dress against her.

He smiles what he hopes is a friendly smile when she continues to look at him in an odd mixture of fear and fascination.

"I know I might look tall and scary and I've got some strange beard thing going on but I promise it's safe."

She still looks like she doesn't believe him and he sighs, unsure of what to do, but then her small hand reaches out and takes the food from him. As soon as she touches it, she seems to lose all control of her actions, literally stuffing it into her mouth, inhaling it in a matter of seconds.

He waits as she eats, unsure of what to do next.

"Thank you."

Her voice is incredibly quiet and her eyes stay firmly trained on her feet, but his heart skips a beat when he hears her.

"You're, uh, you're welcome," he stutters, standing up to leave. He feels in his pocket, then holds his hand out to her, a few shiny coins in his palm.

"It's, um, not much but, yeah, here you go," Tilting his hand, he tips the change into the small jar besides her and it tinkles as it hits the bottom, joining the solitary nickel that was already in there.

The girl pulls the jar back towards her and he takes that as his cue to leave. He's barely taken one step when he stops abruptly at the sensation of a hand around his.

"Thank you so much," he snaps back around to face her at the sound of her voice and, as he does so, she lifts her head and her eyes make contact with his.

It's literally like he can't breathe for a second. The skin where their hands are joined feels like it's on fire and an electrical current seems to be sizzling between them as his shocked cinnamon eyes stare into her wide, chocolate ones. Shockwaves pass through his body as they continue to stare at each other for an immeasurable amount of time.

He jerks his hand back; the intensity of whatever this is is freaking the fuck out of him and it's just too much.

"You're welcome," he mutters, practically running down the steps and shoving his hand back in his pocket, trying to shake the tingling feeling from where she was touching it and the way his heart started hammering the second they made eye contact.

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**Finally, the meeting of Finchel! Things are really going to pick up from here. Please review - your feedback is invaluable to me!**

**I'm starting sixth-form college next week, so it may take me a while to get settled into a routine, but I promise the next update will be much quicker!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, my wonderful readers. Things have been very busy because I just started sixth-form college this week, but your reviews inspired me to update as soon as I possibly could. This chapter is a pretty exciting development in the story in my opinion, so I hope you like it!**

**Again, thanks so much for all your continued support. Just a little bit of self-promotion: I now have twitter, so if you like my writing, I'd love for you to follow me at msabigailsophie.**

**Also, I don't like to beg, but it's my birthday this Sunday and getting a lot of positive reviews on this chapter would be an amazing present! :P**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, etc. etc. **

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The last few days have been hard.

Hard, and dark, and cold, and empty.

Finn's spent them mostly huddled in the doorway to the side-entrance of an old warehouse, which he's pretty sure is one of a chain of crack dens all over the city, judging by the people who sneak in and out of the back door under the cover of a raggedy tarpaulin, stinking of weed. They haven't seen him yet, and he's hoping to keep it that way. Just seeing them sneaking the drugs in always makes him think, for a split second, of his dad leading that kind of life and every time he does his chest aches and his eyes prick with tears but he swallows the lump in his throat back down and closes his eyes until it all goes away.

On the plus side, there's a rusty outdoor faucet on the side of the building and, when he finally got it to work – almost getting permanent bruises on his hands in the process – the water that came out looked relatively clean, so he's been filling up the bottle that he kept from the shop. It's not drinking water, but he hasn't contracted some awful illness either. In all honesty, he's not entirely sure if that's a good thing or not. At the moment, becoming chronically ill and crawling away into the gutter to die doesn't seem a million miles away from the life he's living.

He is constantly hungry, though – for a guy who used to have second helpings of everything, and then steal half of his stepbrother's dinner too, surviving off one sandwich a day (if he's lucky) is incredibly difficult. The money in his pocket just seems to be melting away; he's resorted to actually just buying the cheapest loaf of sliced-bread and eating a few slices each day but there's just the crust left now and he's down to the two dollars that he'd promised himself he'd keep for an absolute last minute emergency.

If he wants to survive, he's going to have to take the only option left open to him and start foraging around in other people's garbage. The thought makes him feel sick, but where else is he going to find any form of nourishment? Still, he puts it off and puts it off because he really doesn't want to admit that he really is _that _desperate.

People-watching has become his latest hobby. Anybody and everybody who passes through the town is surveyed by his lonely, watchful eyes and he makes up stories about them in his head, imagining what their lives are like; if they have any pets, who they live with, how many times they have sex per week, what their favourite food is, where they work, if they're angry or sad or happy or tired…

The more people that speed past him, the more alone he feels. It's like the world spat him out of reality and everything's just going on around him, like a movie reel rolling past his eyes with one simple rule: you can look but never touch.

There's one person he never watches and, ironically, she's the only person he wants to watch and the only person he really even _noticed _for weeks before.

Since that night when he gave the synagogue girl the sandwich, he's been hiding again. Without the comforting warmth of her voice, his insides remain cold and alone, but just thinking about her floods his mind with confusion and nerves and the memory of the way his skin practically set on fire when she looked at him and took his hand. Avoidance seems to be the only way to protect himself from feeling all of that again, even if it amplifies his loneliness to the point of it overwhelming him.

Tonight, Finn's feeling restless.

It's twilight and there are still crowds of people on the streets, chattering excitedly, heading to bars and nightclubs and restaurants for a good time. Shifting on the cold stone of the doorstep, he gets up and stretches his legs for about the tenth time in the past five minutes. After managing to sit down for the grand total of about forty seconds, he grunts in frustration and stands up again, striding off down the road towards the town centre. He doesn't normally wander round in the dark that much – sleeping next to a crack den makes him a little paranoid and he's usually trying to fall asleep as soon as possible – but when the place is alive like this, he enjoys being able to wander through the crowd without getting looks from people. For a second, he can pretend he's part of it, like he's just one of a thousand other people out for a night on the town.

Rain begins to spit down from the clouds and the crowd thins out as people dissipate into the eateries around them for shelter. Finn continues wandering through the streets, watching people enjoying their meals through the glass fronts of the restaurants. The delicious smells wafting through the air make his stomach cramp painfully with hunger and he clutches it for a moment, trying to make it stop.

Light spills out into an alleyway across the road from him, illuminating the figure coming out of the side of a restaurant door, holding a stack of boxes. He watches as the person disappears behind the building and returns, empty-handed, a few moments later, re-entering the restaurant and shutting the door behind him, cloaking the alley in darkness once more.

Finn stands there, connecting the dots in his head. The restaurant is a pizza place, which means those boxes would have been pizza boxes and if the man was throwing them out then they must be unwanted which means potentially they might just possibly contain leftovers. His stomach cramps again at the thought.

Before he knows it, he's crossed the road and is quickly heading for the shadowy gap between the restaurant and the nightclub next to it.

"Shit!"

He swears loudly as something brushes against his leg and makes his heart leap before he squints in the darkness and makes out the vague silhouette of a cat. It turns its beady green eyes on him, remarkably unperturbed by his loud curse, and simply miaows, twisting itself around his legs.

"Well, at least someone wants to talk to me," he mumbles, bending down to pet the cat, who promptly begins purring loudly, nudging its head against his hand. Finn continues rubbing its ears absently until it turns around and ambles further into the darkness of the alley, evidently satisfied with the attention.

The alley is suddenly illuminated again as somebody in the apartment above the restaurant turns on a light. Finn looks up, grateful that he can actually see where he's going now.

He rounds the corner to go behind the building and grins when he sees what he was looking for: three large industrial garbage bins lined up against the wall.

The cat is sitting on top of one of them, miaowing loudly and he steps towards it, holding out his hand.

"Shhh, what's the fuss about? You just love attention, don't you?"

This time, though, the cat doesn't respond to him, but instead begins scrabbling against the lid of the bin.

Finn watches it curiously for a moment before carefully approaching. The cat looks up at him again and yowls mournfully as its paws scrape against the plastic.

Carefully, Finn reaches out his hands to grab the sides of the bin's lid. The cat instantly stops screeching and instead leaps gracefully onto the wall behind. Its amber eyes survey Finn's questioning face.

Now that the cat's quiet, Finn can hear a quiet snuffling sound echoing from inside the garbage bin he's holding. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't a tiny bit scared that there was some sort of mutant dog in there waiting to pounce on him, but his curiosity gets the better of him so he tentatively lifts the lid and leans over the metal edge.

Before he can even look, a deafening, high-pitched scream erupts from the piles of garbage bags. Finn leaps back in shock, the lid bangs loudly back down as he drops it, and the cat, startled by the noise, hisses at him and disappears behind the wall.

His heart is pounding wildly in his chest. He stares at the garbage bin for a moment, loud, heavy breathing now clearly audible from inside it. His instinct tells him to run, but somehow he finds himself approaching to lift the lid again.

Short, muffled whimpers reach his ears and take the quickest route to his heart. There's no way he could abandon _anything_ that was in enough pain to make a noise like that.

The second he opens the lid once more, the screaming starts again but this time he hauls himself up over the side and lands on piles of pizza boxes, blindly reaching forward to grab the shrieking person and clamp a hand over their mouth.

He yelps loudly, pulling his hand back in pain and the screaming carries on.

"Shhh! Please, stop screaming! I'm not going to hurt you!"

He clamps his hand back over the mouth again but it turns out to be unnecessary. The second he speaks, the sound is cut-off and sudden silence descends on them, at the exact time the light from the apartment switches off and he can't see his hand in front of him anymore.

Slowly, Finn removes his hand from the girl's lips, making sure she's not going to scream anymore before he peers in her direction, willing his eyes to adjust to the dark.

They sit there in silence, but as his eyes adjust to the dark, his heart leaps because he finds a pair of familiar, wide eyes staring back at him.

His heart begins to thud so loudly he's surprised it doesn't echo around the metal can.

"Did you just bite me?" he asks in slight disbelief, rubbing his hand because, fuck, this girl is tiny but she has a ridiculously strong jaw.

She nods once; her eyes are boring into his and it feels like his insides are setting alight, so he averts his eyes quickly.

"I thought you were going to hurt me."

Is it overdramatic that Finn swears he can literally feel his heart breaking at her tiny, plaintive voice? Everything about this girl just screams of vulnerability. He feels this desperation to protect her swelling up inside him and it scares him so much because he doesn't even know her but he feels like it's just not an option for him to leave her alone.

"How did you end up in here?" he asks, gesturing to the greasy boxes surrounding them.

"I fell in. I was looking for something to eat and I had to climb up onto wall to reach and then I heard footsteps and it startled me and I fell down and I couldn't get back out."

The more his eyes adjust to the darkness, the more he can see of her face. There are big, shiny trails glimmering in the moonlight underneath both of her eyes and he just wants to reach out and wipe them away but he knows it'll scare her, so he keeps his hands firmly by his sides.

"Did you find anything?"

"What?"

"To eat?"

The girl shakes her head.

"I heard you coming and I honestly thought I was going to die."

Instinctively, the genuine terror in her voice makes him reach out and grab her hand. The tingles are still there the second their skin makes contact but he ignores it, focusing on her need for comfort.

"I'd never hurt you," he whispers, his throat suddenly constricting for some reason.

Awkwardly, Finn reaches out to open a box next to him, tossing it aside when he finds it empty and reaching for another. The girl takes his cue, doing the same with the boxes nearer her and before long they've managed to find a pizza and a half, plus a few crispy fries and half a pot of dip.

She reaches out greedily, gulping down enormous bites while Finn wolfs down almost an entire slice in one mouthful.

It's silent apart from the sound of their frantic chewing until they both finally stop, leaning back, full of greasy cheese and overcooked potato.

"Oh my God. I can't remember the last time I felt full," the girl groans, patting her stomach.

Finn rubs his own, feeling bloated but also enormously satisfied.

Silence descends on the two of them again until he speaks:

"So are we just gonna sit here all night or…?" he trails off, looking at her.

"We can't. They usually empty these garbage bins early in the morning."

She hesitates and he nods, encouraging her to continue.

"I – uh, where do you usually sleep?" she asks.

"By this old warehouse that stinks of crack."

The girl nods seriously.

"I know the place. I stayed there for a bit, a few years ago. But I got so scared of the guys coming there, so that's when I started spending all my time outside the synagogue."

"Do you – uh –" he fumbles awkwardly "I mean, um… I'll, uh, walk you back, shall I?"

Her full lips twitch into the briefest hint of a smile before she nods.

"Yes, please, that would be nice."

Heaving himself up, Finn manages to make it up onto the wall and then slides off and holds his hands over the side of the garbage bin.

"I'll pull you out, okay? Give me your hands."

She obeys and he manages to lift her up and over the edge to set her gently down on the ground.

They exit the alley together into the street, still quiet as most people have gone home by now.

His heart thuds because she didn't let go of his hand when he put her down and he can still feel her tiny palm clasped against his.

"I'm Finn, by the way."

He waits for her to answer with her own name but the girl doesn't reply. Maybe she can tell he's nervous and she still thinks he's a creep?

They walk in silence the rest of the way, but just as they're approaching the synagogue steps, the girl squeezes his hand, making his stomach flutter.

"I'm glad I have you with me, Finn."

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**Awww! So Finchel have finally met properly. What's going to happen now? **

**I'll update asap, but some birthday reviews would really encourage me to speed things along ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for your patience waiting for this chapter. College has completely taken over my life and I just haven't been able to find the time to get this done. It's turned out much longer than any of the chapters so far, though, so I hope that makes it up to you a little bit!**

**I'm so grateful for your ongoing support and the lovely birthday messages some of you sent me :) Your reviews really do inspire me to keep going. I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

**Edit: I'm a bit of an idiot and I missed off the first paragraph when I posted this! If you thought it was a weird beginning, that's why! :P**

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"Here, I found us some chips," Finn holds out the packet as he turns round and sits down on the cold stone, his hands and feet aching from two hours solid of searching through garbage discreetly and coming up with a disappointingly small find of half a bag of Doritos. Still, he's not going to complain. The day before, his dish of the day was old, wet lettuce and he could barely manage one mouthful without retching. He doesn't like salad too much at the best of times. So when it's been slowly decaying in a plastic bag for a day or so? Yeah, no thanks. He gave it to her instead, and marvelled at her ability to swallow it down as if it were a banquet.

The girl nods and takes the bag, thanking him. They're kind of partners now. Normally he's the one who goes foraging and she sits on the steps and sings, just like before. Finn's getting better at not freaking the fuck out every time she touches him, even if he does still get kind of hot and his heart still thuds and he has to wipe his palms on his jeans when she's not looking.

There's a tentative friendship evolving between them, and, although mostly they just sit in companionable silence on the synagogue steps, he spends every day with her now and every day he closes his eyes and listens to her sing, letting her dull the pain in his heart into a slow, constant ache.

It's just nice to know there's someone else there, you know?

It breaks his heart that she still has that ancient look of fear in her eyes when he looks at her. He doesn't think she's scared of _him_ so much as she just doesn't trust anybody. And that idea kills him even more.

He tries to pretend he doesn't notice that she _still_ flinches momentarily when he gets too close, and instead he tries to casually put his hand on the arm holding the bag of chips, leaving it there until she eventually relaxes under his touch.

They're so _careful_ around one another, like one sudden move will break them both.

For God's sake, she won't even tell Finn her name. He's not gonna press the issue because he can't afford to upset the only friend he has. And, besides, even the idea of seeing that beautiful face crumple with tears because of him almost makes him want to cry himself.

They pass the day in their usual way, except this time there's something different about it. He can't quite put his finger on it but, when she sings that song again, Finn finds himself humming along under his breath. He doesn't know the song but he thinks it's her favourite because she sings it every day. And it's quickly becoming his favourite too because he watches her when she sings it and her eyes close and her mouth opens and her whole body seems to swell with strength that she draws from each note she sings.

Today she opens her eyes in the middle of a verse, and her head whips to look up at his face when the sound of his husky baritone reaches her ears. Finn's breath catches when his eyes snap onto her own, which are impossibly wide and shining. It's totally not manly at all, but he figures he doesn't care about the tears pooling in his eyes when her mouth twitches, then spreads wider and wider into the first genuine beam he's seen from her. It's a proper open-mouthed smile; one where her cheeks stretch and he can see her surprisingly white teeth peeking out from between her full, curved lips.

It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

They stare at each other, finishing the song in a quiet harmony and when their voices stop everything else seems to go silent around them.

"You…you sang with me," the girl stutters out after a second, her voice rising in a question, like she can't quite believe it.

Finn clears his throat awkwardly and shuffles on the step next to her. He's suddenly intensely aware of his hand on her knee and his skin gets all hot. He whips it back, then stupidly hopes she didn't notice the sudden movement. Her eyes haven't left his though, and she's still smiling and but the question is still hanging in the air between them.

"Uh-yeah," he nods, clearing his throat again and trying to find a way of sitting still because he's suddenly getting all kinds of fidgety and he can't stop staring at the brightness in her eyes.

Finn can feel them getting kind of uncomfortable and they both quickly avert their eyes. He looks down at his feet and wills the rising blush in his face to fade back down before he's glowing like a stop light in the dusky light.

"Santana used to sing with me."

It's a few moments before she breaks the silence, her voice soft and wistful.

"Santana?" he asks quietly.

"I - I met her a long time ago – when I was about ten or eleven. She was fourteen when we met. She told me her Abuela had thrown her out because she was different. It scared me because she was yelling in Spanish and crying and I didn't understand but then she grabbed my arm and told me we were going to be partners. She – she was my best friend."

Her voice cracks as she nears the end of her sentence. She blows out a long breath.

Carefully, Finn reaches his arm out again, putting it on her shoulder comfortingly.

"What happened?" he asks, almost dreading the answer.

"She got Fed-Exed," she pauses, realising he doesn't understand, "When the Fed-Ex trucks unload outside the big office blocks, sometimes people sneak on board. To get away, you know. It takes you to a different city and you start all over again."

She pauses again, this time because her voice is shaking with tears.

"We were going to go together one day, but I guess she couldn't wait. Didn't want some little girl slowing her down, I suppose."

Finn feels his heart contract at the way she bows her head. He pats her arm to get her attention, and she glances up at him from under her curtain of long brown hair. Stretching his arm out further, he slides across right next to her and rubs her tiny shoulder comfortingly.

"I won't do that," Finn promises, his voice thick with sincerity. The girl gives him a watery smile, ducking her head again to hide her face while she wipes her eyes. He hopes one day she'll trust him enough to not feel like she has to hide her tears.

They listen to the noises of the city together; the cars humming in the background of their individual thoughts.

"Do you want to go find some dinner before it gets too dark?" she suggests quietly.

"Sure," his stomach swoops when she smiles at him again. Finn stands up and turns around, pulling her up by the hand.

"Let's go find ourselves a feast."

He grins when she starts to skip down the steps, letting her lead him.

They walk in silence for a while, wandering their way back towards their favourite food spot – that street with the pizza restaurant where he found her two weeks ago. It's surprising what sort of weird facts they have to notice now – like how nobody goes out to eat on a Monday evening and how most people get takeout on a Friday night. That's how they keep track of time, and he's pretty sure it's a Wednesday today which is the day the pizza place is closed.

A sudden cold prick on the back of his neck alerts him to the fact that it's beginning to spot lightly with rain and he knows she's noticed too from the way her pace picks up. It's raining properly by the time they reach the alleyway with the industrial bins and they forage through the smaller garbage cans at the side as quickly as possible, unable to climb up into the big ones on the slippery wall.

Luck seems to be at least a little on their side because Finn quickly finds a half-eaten burger and she comes up with almost a whole hot-dog. The end of it has obviously been dropped on the floor but he rips the gritty part of the bun off and wraps it in the empty chip packet that he saved from earlier.

By now it's raining pretty hard and the girl is starting to shiver. Quickly, Finn unzips his hoodie and reaches to wrap it around her shoulders. She tries to protest but he knows she doesn't quite mean it because she slips her arms into the long sleeves and pulls up the zipper, tipping the hood down quickly over her head.

"What about you?" she asks him worriedly.

"I'll be okay. Let's just find somewhere close to get out of this rain."

Finn takes her damp hand again, and passes her the chip packet containing the food for her to slip into the front pocket of his jacket.

They walk quickly through the downpour, sticking as close as possible to the walls of the buildings for shelter but it's not long before both of them are soaked. The rain is coming down so hard it's actually making it difficult to see and Finn shakes his head to clear the drops from his eyelashes, his heart sinking when he realises he doesn't recognise where they are.

"Do you know this place?" he asks her, looking around at the rows of unfamiliar houses.

"No," she answers him, shouting back over the hammering rain on the roofs of the nearby cars.

Finn reaches out, wrapping his arm around her miniscule frame and pulling her into him, trying to shelter her from the cold wind blowing the rain into both of their faces.

"Look, Finn!" he turns to follow where the girl is pointing, and sees what looks like a railway bridge at the end of the street. She pulls him towards it and Finn notices a huge sheet of rusty corrugated metal lying across the ground.

A clanging and scraping alerts him to the fact that she's darted under the bridge and is now attempting to drag the metal towards the wall. He rushes to help her, and together they manoeuvre it until it's leaning against the outer wall of the bridge, creating their own sheltered corner underneath it.

"God, why couldn't someone have thrown away their umbrella?" he grumbles, throwing himself down and leaning against the inside wall. The girl sits down next to him, pushing the drenched hood of his jacket down.

They look at each other for a second and then simultaneously burst out laughing, shaking and shivering. Finn's not even sure what the fuck he's laughing at because, shit, it's not even funny, but when he laughs he feels warmer and it's making him feel so good he's almost getting hysterical again.

"I'm cold," she mumbles, in between her giggles.

Finn sobers up, his sides aching from laughing so hard. Standing up again, he walks across the concrete and dirt path, casting his eyes across the junk strewn on the ground for anything that could be useful.

His eyes fall on a cigarette lighter next to a pile of newspaper and a smashed up rickety wooden chair. Huh. Looks like some potential arsonists used this as a campground.

Finn pockets the lighter and scoops the rest of the materials up into his arms. On his way back across to their corner, he deposits it all on the ground and attempts to arrange about a third of the wood into a small stack, stuffing newspaper into the gaps. Clicking the lighter until a small flame appears, he leans forward and touches it to the paper, shuffling quickly back as it flares up.

The first few attempts just end up with the newspaper burning out in a puff of smoke, but by his third go, the wood finally catches and he sits back against the wall, satisfied with his work.

"You look so proud of yourself."

He hears the girl's teasing voice from beside him and turns to stick his tongue out childishly at her.

"Shut up."

She smirks and he nudges her with his elbow.

"You'd better have kept our dinner dry," he tells her seriously, nodding at the jacket.

She shoves the huge sleeve up and reaches inside the pocket, producing their squashed but, nevertheless, edible dinner.

Finn takes it and leans forward, placing the food on top of the chip packet next to the fire.

"Figured we could at least eat it warm," he shrugs.

The girl smiles a small smile and he notices her teeth are chattering.

"You want to take this off so I can warm it by the fire?" he offers, tugging at the wet sleeve of her jacket.

She shakes her head, hunching up inside the garment.

"Can we wait till the fire has warmed us up a bit first?"

Finn smiles at how tiny she looks. She's literally drowning in his clothes and it's incredibly adorable, to be honest. She gives him a strange look, smiling uncertainly in response to the wide grin on his face and he can feel his face reddening when he realises he was staring. Quickly, he ducks his head and leans forward to grab the food.

"Dinner is served."

She reaches out for the hot-dog he offers her and they both gulp their food down greedily in a matter of minutes.

The fire has begun warm their sheltered corner quite nicely and Finn feels himself feeling almost sleepily content for the first time in a couple of months.

Beside him, the girl has obviously decided it's warm enough now because she starts to shrug off the jacket.

"Ow."

He looks over at her in concern she flinches, and sees her glance at her hand.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing!"

She tries to pull her arm away quickly to hide it behind her back but he reaches for her wrist and tugs it back towards him.

There's a long, diagonal gash across her palm, bleeding across her fingers.

"It's just a scratch. I – I cut it on the metal," she explains, still trying to pull away.

Finn drops her arm, his hands going down to the bottom of his shirt, which is mostly dry now. Gripping the cheap material tightly, he pulls at it until it begins to rip, ignoring the girl's protests and quickly tearing around the hem until he has a strip of material bunched up in his fist.

"Give me your hand."

Tentatively, she puts her arm out towards him.

"Finn, you shouldn't have ruined your t-shirt. Really, I'm fine, it's just a tiny scratch, that's all, you really didn't need to –"

"Shh," he cuts off her tirade gently, handing her the middle of the strip, "Hold this."

She takes it in her injured hand, hissing a little at the contact but holding it firmly so he can begin to wrap the material around in a makeshift bandage. When he reaches the last few inches, he pulls the two ends together, knotting them on the back of her hand. His fingers brush her skin as he pulls away and he hears her breath hitch for a second.

"Thank you."

Finn looks up, and his response dies in his throat. He hadn't realised he'd leaned so close in his concentration, but his face is literally right next to hers now. Her face is glowing from the firelight flickering across it and her hair – previously plastered to her head – has begun to dry into soft, damp curls.

Her eyelashes sweep her skin slowly as she blinks at him, those entrancing chocolate orbs meeting his once more. She gives a tiny, confused smile and it's just – he can't help himself – he's gonna do it.

As slowly and carefully as he possibly can, he raises his hand up towards her face.

A sudden flash of fear flickers into her eyes and he speaks hastily.

"No, please – don't worry. You can trust me... I'm not going to hurt you."

Finn waits for as long as he can, checking to see she's okay before he moves his hand forward the rest of the way to rest his fingers on her tiny, blushing cheekbones. Her breath hitches again and he can feel it this time – feel the way it puffs against his face, warm and inviting. Just before he closes his eyes, he lets them flicker down to her soft mouth and he sees hers do the same before he snaps his own shut and finally, perfectly reaches her lips in a kiss.

Worried about frightening her, he leans back after a second, watching as she opens her eyes and draws in a deep breath.

"Okay?" he asks.

She nods slowly, catching him by surprise when she takes the initiative and leans back in. Her mouth is warm and delicious against his and this time they begin to move their lips slowly against one another. He takes care to keep his tongue out of the way – he can't scare her off now – but she takes a quick breath and then opens her mouth wider, pushing more firmly against his own. God, this feels too good already, and he's trying so hard to be gentle but he really can't help the stirring in his pants and he needs to stop because he's losing it far too quickly.

He pulls back, keeping his hand on her face and staring at her, dazed. They're both breathing heavily, and she keeps licking her lips, ducking her head nervously.

"No one's ever – I never – Nobody's ever done that before," she whispers.

She's looking at him with this wonder in her eyes that literally makes his heart feel like it's melting.

"Glad I got to be the first," he returns, far more smoothly than the shaky mess of feelings inside would normally let him.

She smiles gently, leaning her head briefly against his shoulder.

"I liked it," she confesses in this ridiculously adorable whisper, "Can we do it again?"

* * *

**Aww! Finchel kiss! But there's still the ongoing mystery of Rachel's past. And when will Finn finally learn her name?**

**Reviews are very, very welcome, as always! :D**

**Thank you.**


	6. Chapter 6

**These chapters just keep getting longer and longer, and I seem to have less and less time to write! I'm hugely grateful for all of your reviews/follows. Thank you for your infinite patience with my sporadic updates - I hope there are still people enjoying this fic! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee**

* * *

"It's nearly my birthday."

The girl breaks the peaceful silence, her voice wistful.

Finn turns his head towards her and rests his chin on the top of her head.

"Yeah? When is it?"

They're snuggled up together under an old sleeping bag Finn found in a dumpster a few weeks ago, the two of them still sheltering under the bridge which has become their – for lack of a better word – home. Whoever was using the bridge before never came back, so after spending two weeks cautiously preparing to abandon camp at any point, they finally made the decision that it seemed safe enough to call this place their own.

The girl shuffles a little, leaning back into his warm body. Finn relishes in how comfortable she seems, compared to a month or so ago.

"December 18th," She pauses, uncertainly, "At least, I – I think so. I mean, I haven't had anyone to – to celebrate with in so long that I can't…quite remember for sure…" she trails off, her voice tinged with that ever-present sadness that seems to haunt it constantly.

Finn considers her words, imagining birthday parties filled with shrieking children and balloons and streamers and those awesome mini-sausages on sticks: exciting childhood experiences this beautiful girl can't even remember having. His heart aches for her and he slides his chin off to top of her head and down the side of her face to kiss her cheek gently.

Finn hopes he's not overstepping the mark by doing that. See, since that day in the rain when they found this bridge for the first time, and, you know, when he kissed her, things have been a little weird between the two of them. On the one hand, they've become closer and closer, using each other for constant support and comfort – but their relationship _isn't_ romantic.

Aside from the occasional comforting peck on the lips when they both let themselves get a little too comfortable. And the fact that Finn's about ninety nine percent sure he's completely falling for her. That too.

But, yeah, never mind. He tries not to think about that too much because the girl still won't trust him enough to tell him her name and he tries to act like that's not a big deal but it really kind of is because, you know, it hurts to think she still feels like she has to keep stuff from him.

So mostly they ignore this crazy connection between them and Finn reminds himself to play it safe and keep it platonic. The girl doesn't seem to mind this comforting peck though, because she lets out a soft sigh and nestles her head into his chest.

"Well, we're gonna have to throw you a party then," Finn decides firmly.

She looks up at him curiously, her argument already slipping out of her mouth.

"Finn, we barely even get enough food to survive for most days. And look at where we live. We're underneath a bridge! We can't have a party here!"

"Sure we can," he tells her gently, smiling when he sees her let a little bit of hope cautiously enter her eyes.

"We're going to make this the best birthday ever," Finn promises, pushing back her long hair to whisper right into her ear. She wiggles forward, making him loosen his grip around her so she can turn and look up at him. Her eyes are shining and her lips are shaped into this perfect, tiny smile, and there's honestly nothing more beautiful than when he can put that expression on her face.

It's another one of those moments where Finn just can't help himself; he leans forward impulsively to press his lips to hers. The kiss is short and simple and, as always, neither of them mention it after.

It's just one of those things that happens. Increasingly.

...

The multi-coloured lights wink merrily at them from the enormous tree opposite the synagogue. The newspaper Finn dug out of a trashcan earlier – which is spread across both of their laps in an attempt to keep them warm – tells them today is 15th December, and the city has been packed with Christmas shoppers all week.

He glances at the jar by their feet, which holds a handful of small change. It's enough to keep them going, at least, but he wishes there was some way they could afford to buy a proper meal. It's three days until her birthday and he's determined to make it the best day she's had in forever.

His gaze travels lazily across the cityscape, watching the twinkling lights and the hubbub of people doing their holiday shopping.

"Christmas has always been my favourite holiday," he murmurs to the girl beside him, "It just makes it suck that much worse this year."

He hesitates, then asks, "Do you, you know, ever do anything…special for it?"

It's kind of a weird question and, the second Finn asks it, he feels a little bad because look at her – she's been so alone and so afraid for so long and of course she won't have done anything special – her Christmas gift is literally, like, staying alive.

She doesn't seem offended though, which he's grateful for.

Instead, she pauses momentarily before she answers, "I'm Jewish. I don't celebrate Christmas."

Finn nods his head in understanding, then shakes it in confusion.

"You have Hannukah though, right?"

"Yes. I hear them singing in the synagogue. Sometimes when people visit for the last night of Hannukah they even give me enough to buy a warm meal. It's the best night of my year."

She wraps her arms around herself protectively, like she always does when she reveals something personal to him. Finn slips his arm around her shoulder in response, pulling her closer.

"I guess it's kind of beautiful how much more generous people can be on a holiday," she sighs softly.

Finn makes a quiet, comforting 'mmm' noise in response, but his brain suddenly switches into high-gear, lighting up like the tree in front of them.

"Hey, I have an idea!"

His sudden exclamation makes her jump and he rubs her arm apologetically, carrying on with his thoughts aloud:

"Why don't we go down there and stand nearer the shops?"

The girl shakes her head abruptly, and her voice sounds almost panicky.

"Oh, no, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? You just said people are more generous at Christmas, right? So let's go stand nearer the Christmas shoppers!"

Finn smiles, patting himself on the beck for his genius reasoning, but the girl still looks incredibly uncertain.

"I don't think we should, Finn."

He bends his head curiously in towards her, sweeping her dark hair away when she tries to hide her face.

"Why not?"

"I don't…I'm not good with people, Finn. I – I'm scared."

Her eyes lock onto his and he can see the heartbreaking pain and genuine terror swirling deep inside of them. They hold each other's gaze steadily, although her chest is still rising and falling anxiously. Finn leans his head further towards her, until their foreheads are almost touching. He knows how hard she finds it to trust – he's seen her recoil from the kindest of human gestures. And it still kills him to think of how awful her past must have been for her to end up as this wreck of a beautiful soul.

"I know," he mumbles, "I know. But you don't have to be afraid anymore. I'm here and I swear I will protect you."

He closes his eyes with sincerity as he speaks, his fingers stroking the ends of her rough hair. She breathes in firmly, audibly, and then clutches his hand.

"Okay, I'll try," she promises warily.

Finn presses his lips against her forehead and keeps hold of her hand as they stand up together. She folds the newspaper and he picks up the jar, and they head towards the bustling street together. The closer they get to the main road, the closer the girl tucks herself into him, like she'll disappear altogether if she can hide enough of herself under his arm. Comfortingly, Finn rubs his hand up and down her arm, giving her courage to keep on walking through the crowd.

They come to a halt outside a particularly busy department store and Finn bends down quickly to pick up a stray gift bow from the sidewalk. He hands it to her, and she smiles a small smile as she sticks the bow to her money jar, admiring it almost proudly.

"Let's do this," he encourages her, gripping her small palm tightly, whilst her other hand holds the jar up in front of them.

An hour or so passes and Finn's nearly ready to cry with frustration. No more people have taken notice of them than if they had stayed on the steps and he can tell his girl is getting more and more anxious, the longer they spend surrounded by the throngs of people.

"Finn, please, can't we just go?" she begs him, tugging his arm. He's so close to agreeing, but he can't face defeat yet, not while they still have a chance.

"Just a little while longer, baby," he promises.

At his use of the pet-name, her eyes widen; thoughts of rushing away forgotten.

"I – uh – sorry," Finn apologises lamely, his face flushing the same shade of bright red as the Santa gifts display behind them.

The girl stares at him a few moments longer before ducking her head awkwardly and whispering a soft "I don't mind."

Finn's heart picks up speed and his face flushes even deeper, but for a completely different reason now.

"It's cold," the girl breaks the kind of awkward silence that settles quickly between them, rubbing her hands together as she speaks. Finn shivers, noticing for the first time that his fingers are pretty much numb. He's just about to admit defeat and suggest they leave when his eyes fall on a small pamphlet on the ground a few feet away, advertising a Christmas karaoke concert.

The idea pops into his head straight away but it takes him a few moments to work up the courage to propose it.

"Hey, uh, will you…I mean, do you want to sing with me? Please?" he asks. He's expecting her to lower her eyes with embarrassment and turn him down but is pleasantly surprised when she answers his question with one of her own.

"What, like carol singers?"

"Yeah, I guess. Yeah," he can feel his grin spreading across his face, matching her own.

"I'd love to," she responds, taking his hand in hers once more.

Taking a few deep breaths, she closes her eyes to block out the crowd and opens her mouth.

"_Silent night,_

_Holy night,_

_All is calm,_

_All is bright,_

_Round yon virgin mother and child,_

_Holy infant so tender and mild,_

_Sleep in heavenly peace,_

_Sleep in heavenly peace,"_

Her angelic voice carries like warm honey through the crisp air as it diffuses through the crowd. Finn closes his eyes for a moment too, feeling that familiar sense of peace warm his chilled body through as he opens his own mouth to allow his voice to join hers in harmony. The moment he starts singing, their voices connect and meld together seamlessly.

She squeezes his hand tightly and he turns to look at her. With her eyes bright and her nose just a little bit red from the chill, she's never looked happier.

Slowly but surely, a crowd begins to gather – people pause mid-Christmas-rush to stand and listen for a while. And, one by one, they come forward, and drop a few coins in the small jar with the bow that stands proudly at their feet.

They go through all the carols they know – and a few Finn doesn't, but he holds her hand while she sings – until the crowd finally begins to thin out as the shops start closing and people begin to head home. Finn doesn't believe in, like, magic or God or anything but as they launch into a final reprise of Silent Night to finish off, he feels several cold drops on his hands and face as snow begins to fall from the sky, and he thinks maybe someone or something could be looking down on them after all.

"Thank you," the girl beams at the few remaining shoppers, taking a dainty curtsey and motioning for them to clap Finn as well.

It's like something from a cheesy holiday romantic comedy, the way they rush back towards their bridge through the swirling snowflakes with the money they collected in the jar providing a clinking soundtrack like Christmas bells. The two of them are laughing the whole way back and, for once, it's so easy to pretend like everything is perfect; they haven't a care in the world.

When they reach their shelter it's like Finn can practically hear the moment where the rousing violin chorus would be if this were a movie, and the second they're under the bridge, he spins the girl to face him and presses her against the wall, kissing her passionately. This time he's not careful: he kisses her with abandon, nipping at her lips and daringly pushing his tongue forward to part them. She doesn't pull away, so he dives in further, letting out a small moan when he feels his tongue brushing hers as she opens her mouth a little wider.

He finally has to pull back to gasp in a lungful of oxygen but his breath catches when he tries. Her nose is pink, her cheeks are peony red, her eyes are watering a little from the wind and he has never seen anyone so beautiful. Her entire face is alight with happiness, in a way he has never seen before, as she raises herself back onto her tiptoes and attaches her lips to his once more.

...

This time they don't ignore it. Something has shifted between them and it's reflected in the way he kisses her goodnight, and kisses her again in the morning to wake her up; in the way she almost cries with happiness, then presses her mouth to his when they count the money and find that they've raised thirty two dollars and eighty four cents; and in the way they never relinquish their hold of each other's hands as they navigate their way through Walmart the next day. He grins at her skating across the slippery tiled floor as she rushes about with her hair flying out behind her when she skids around the corners, like a little kid who has been allowed to take control of the shopping cart for the very first time.

They spend a long time playing with the silly toys and games in the kids' section, making each other laugh until their sides hurt and a security guard chases them away, reprimanding them for being a nuisance. They treat themselves to thick Christmas socks which are on offer and choose their favourite ready-made meals from the takeout section before Finn reluctantly decides they have to be as economical as possible – which basically means buying cheap canned soup, seeing as that will both store easily and cook on a fire.

The snow soon settles on the ground, making them glad that having those cans means they don't have to venture out for a few days. They pass the time together, sometimes talking or playing or joking, sometimes lost in their own silent worlds.

On the morning of the 18th, Finn wakes her up with a gentle kiss on her perfect nose and a whispered birthday greeting. She responds by pressing her face into his chest and raising her hand to stroke the thick scruff on his chin.

"Can we sing again today?" she asks.

Finn nods and they spend the rest of the morning cuddled together under their old sleeping bag, discussing song choices. She giggles when Finn's stomach rumbles and he pulls a face at her. They share a can of heated chicken broth between them as they wander through the snow towards the city centre, and this time he can tell she's not as nervous because her strides are more confident and she holds her head a tiny bit higher. This time they only make twenty seven dollars and fifty six cents but it's enough for them to buy some more necessary food items and Finn insists on buying a birthday cake, despite her adamant protests that he really doesn't need to.

"Hey, I told you we'd make this the best birthday ever," he reminds her, his voice soft. Her eyes fill with tears and she sets down the basket she's carrying and throws her arms around him right there in the middle of the bakery. Finn catches her and holds her tight, ignoring the people staring at them as she sobs into his shoulder, completely overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles, wiping the tears from her cheeks, "It's just, I haven't had a birthday cake since I turned eight years old."

Finn can't even think of a reply, but he rubs her back as the woman in the bakery packs the cake in a special gift box and wishes the girl a happy birthday.

She begins crying again after they've finished eating their birthday meal when he hands her the new cheap knife they bought earlier and places the cake on the ground between them.

"Don't forget to make a wish," he tells her, kissing the top of her head. He watches as she closes her eyes tightly and whispers something under her breath as she plunges the knife into the soft sponge.

"What'd you wish for?"

"I can't tell you or it won't come true," her expression is serious but she can't keep the smile out of her voice.

They eat the cake in silence, aside from the occasional groan from both of them at tasting something sweet and delicious and actually not stale after so long.

"God, I can't move," the girl groans, resting her hands on her stomach and lying back against him.

"Gonna admit that cake was totally worth it yet?" Finn asks her cheekily.

"Mayyyybe," she drags the word out, teasing him.

He smirks and reaches his hands out to lightly tickle her sides.

"Finn! Finn! Stop it, please!" she giggles, squirming away from him. He keeps tickling her until she's literally shrieking and when he stops she just lies there breathing heavily and laughing to herself. It's literally infectious and Finn finds himself chuckling along with her, enjoying how happy she is.

"Okay, okay, it was worth it!" she answers finally.

"Good," Finn answers simply, and leans in to kiss her. Their tongues quickly find their way together this time, and her hands come up to grab his face and pull in down on top of her. They lie there making out for minutes on end and, God, it feels so good, her lips sucking hard against his. Finn feels his pants already growing far too tight. If they don't stop now, he's actually going to blow his load, so he pulls back gently and rolls off to lie beside her, blowing out through his lips to try and calm himself down.

She doesn't seem to mind – she just snuggles into his side and tucks her head under his arm.

"This really has been the best birthday I could ever have imagined, Finn," she whispers, "I can't thank you enough."

"No need to thank me. It's been perfect for me too. With you, it's like I can forget where I am for a while," he tells her honestly.

She turns her head to kiss him again for that.

...

They find themselves in exactly the same position a week later, after as perfect a Christmas day as they could have asked for, given the circumstances.

She's wearing her new reindeer sweater which Finn noticed in a Goodwill shop when he went to search for more newspaper for the fire. He used up half of their emergency ten dollars to buy it but the expression on her face when he presented it to her halfway through their 'Christmas dinner' was worth every single penny. Especially when she immediately pulled it over her head, beamed at him and then proceeded to kiss him senseless, resulting in an accidental intermission during the meal when they ended up on top of each other next to their makeshift table.

The feel of the wool is warm, if a little scratchy, against his skin as they sit with their feet entwined beneath the sleeping bag, taking it in turns to steal candy from the enormous assortment bag in their laps.

"Oooh, we should make a Christmas-Hannukah toast!" she squeals, sitting up straighter excitedly. She leans over and grabs the two plastic bottles they've been using to drink from and hands Finn's to him, raising her own.

"To Finn! For being my best friend in the entire world!" she proclaims loudly.

"To –" he hesitates, smacking straight into that invisible barrier between them. He falters where her name should be, trying to think of a way to get round it. "To us. For having the best Christmas and Hannukah celebrations together," he decides, trying to cover his awkward pause. They clink their imaginary wine glasses together and each take a sip from them.

It's quiet for a moment.

"Rachel."

The girl looks down at her hands nervously, hiding her face behind her hair in the way Finn knows she does when she's shy.

"What?"

"My name – it's Rachel," her voice is barely audible and Finn has to strain to hear her, even in the silence of the winter night. His heart does a weird leap in his chest.

"Rachel?"

A small smile begins to spread across his face. It's like everything makes sense: her name couldn't possibly be anything else because she's _Rachel_, that's who she is, and it feels like a perfect description of everything he can't quite put his finger on about her.

The girl, _Rachel_, nods but keeps her head bowed, like she's suddenly afraid to look at him. Finn catches his finger under her chin and tilts her head so she has no choice but to. Her eyes are wide and so vulnerable when they meet his own. He's never met anyone so simultaneously strong and weak.

"It's pretty; it suits you," he says, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek. She blushes and stays silent, just looking at him.

"C'mere," Finn whispers, pulling her into his arms and wrapping the sleeping bag tighter around them. He waits until she relaxes, running his hands up and down her arms repeatedly.

"Merry Christmas, Rachel."

And, later that night, when the fire has burned out and the festive mood has dwindled, and they're back to the dark and the cold, he lets himself think, for the first time since he left, about his family and what they'd be doing today, without him. He tries his hardest to stay strong, he really does, but Rachel notices so he tells her everything he's thinking, and she wraps her surprisingly strong arms around him while he finally sinks into her embrace and lets himself cry against her, bitter sobs that wrack his body and tears that dampen the shoulder of her cardigan.

He can feel her body close underneath him and he knows she's on the edge of control too. He reciprocates the motion of holding her close, and, in seconds, she lets herself go too, tears slipping from her own eyes as she buries her face in his chest. That's how they fall asleep on Christmas night – crying their hearts out until they pass out together, leaving tear tracks freezing on their faces.

* * *

**Finn finally found out her name! But there's still that mystery of Rachel's past to be revealed... Reviews are very, very welcome! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**What's this? And update?! Yes, it's finally here. I hope it's worth the wait, and I'm hugely grateful to you wonderful people who have kept waiting so long and encouraging me to keep going with this fic.**

**Disclaimer: Glee's not mine, etc., etc.**

* * *

"Finn," he feels a tiny hand patting his arm, "Finn."

"Mmmm, what is it, Rach?" he murmurs sleepily, leaning his head up automatically in search of her lips. She complies and bends her head forward to kiss him softly.

"We need something to eat. Our food supply has run out completely."

He blinks slowly, smiling when he opens his eyes to see her blurry face inches from his.

"We'll get something later, baby. Got a headache. I just wanna rest," His words all slur together and he feels her hand stroking his hair, the rhythm lulling him back towards sleep.

Rachel's voice is soft and soothing as she speaks.

"Okay, how about I go get us something quickly and I'll wake you up when I'm back?"

She takes his vague mumbles as an assent to her suggestion, and Finn feels her lips press a gentle kiss against his cheek before he slips back into unconsciousness.

….

A loud clattering shakes him awake and he sits up, blinking slowly to rid his brain of the last foggy traces of sleep.

"Is it breakfast time, yet, baby?" he murmurs, looking round. His heart falters for a second when he realises she's still not here. In a second, he's on his feet, the adrenaline suddenly pumping round his body. He sways on the spot, his vision clouded by black patches from standing up too quickly.

"Rach?!" he calls loudly, hoping she'll just have stepped outside for a moment.

A quick glance out from under the bridge and he recognises that clattering sound as the noise of hailstones bouncing off the corrugated metal and scattering on the ground.

"Shit," he curses, his mind instantly coming up with the fifty worst scenarios. He sticks his head out, intent on going to find Rachel, but the wind is howling around him and the hailstones are battering painfully against his face, even as he takes five steps down the street.

"Rach? RACHEL?" his voice is sucked up in the gale, diffusing into the storm and getting lost amongst the pitter-patter of bouncing stones and the cracking of tree branches.

He jogs to the end of the street, bellowing repeatedly in vain. In a moment of madness, he considers sprinting into the town to find her. But his head is pounding and he's already shivering and he knows the practical thing to do is to go back and wait for her in the warm, instead of getting sick from being out in this weather.

Reluctantly, Finn calls her name a couple more times, before the hail starts to fall impossibly harder, obscuring his vision almost completely, and he's left with no choice but to run back under the bridge for shelter.

He starts up a fire with the wood and some old newspapers they keep stashed in a corner, and curls up beside the flames, shaking. Bracing himself, he slips off his jacket and holds it out towards the heat, hoping it'll dry quicker that way.

His mind is running on overtime, considering every possible situation Rachel could be in. God, she could be anywhere. The thought is almost enough to make him abandon camp and sprint back outside to try and find her no matter what, but he tries to think logically; breathes deep and reminds himself that she's been doing this far longer than he has, and she must have survived so many thunder storms alone before. It makes his heart ache to imagine an even tinier, even younger version of Rachel stumbling through the streets like a drowned rat against the relentless downpour.

Finn closes his eyes, counting the minutes away, praying to whatever God there is that she's just waiting out the storm in a shop doorway or something.

What if she fell in the dumpster again? What if a car hydroplaned and she didn't see and –?

Scraping and banging from outside cuts off his mental doomsday scenario and he whips his head around so fast his neck cricks in the process, in time to see the shuddering corrugated metal part as a miniscule figure rushes in.

She's there, her long brown hair plastered to her head and hanging in straggly rats' tails down to her waist, her cardigan more water than wool and her dress plastered so closely to her figure it may as well be painted on.

"I'm so sorry, Finn, I got caught in the –"

Finn lets out a weird gasp verging on a sob and leaps up, pulling her to him, not caring about the way her drenched clothing instantly soaks his own.

"God, Rachel, don't you ever scare me like that again," he mutters into her neck.

She lets him hold her for a moment, a long moment, and then pulls back to look at him.

"I'm sorry, I got caught in the rain on the way into town and I thought it would be easier to just carry on and hope it cleared up and then it didn't so I hid inside the back service door of a grocery store and then this man found me and threw me out because he thought I was stealing, and then I tried to run back here but I got lost because the hail was so hard and I couldn't see."

She explains it all in one long breath, pressing her head against his chest and keeping her arms wrapped around him.

"Don't worry baby, I'm just so glad you're safe," he says, revelling in the way her bony arms dig into him as her body trembles violently against his. She looks up at him, her brown eyes blinking and wet.

"I forgot what it's like to have someone to worry about me," she whispers.

He can't tell if the droplets on her face are rain or tears.

"I will always worry about you, Rachel" he promises, his voice gruff. They hold each other's gaze for an undetermined moment before she surges forward to kiss him, with more passion than he's ever felt from her before.

His several unsuccessful attempts to pull back end up in multiple pecks of her lips against his, again and again until he finally gathers himself enough to tell her she needs to dry off her clothes.

Suddenly the air between them is awkward. Rachel blushes, ducking her head and twisting the end of her cardigan, creating a puddle on the ground as she wrings it out. She takes it off and lays it out on the crate next to the fire, then removes her squelching, battered shoes and places them next to it.

Then she falters, and Finn feels his face growing hot because her dress is so wet it's completely sticking to her and, well, he can _see_ things a little more clearly than he should.

"I – uh – sorry," he's not sure what he's apologising for but it makes her smile a little.

"I think maybe I need to…take this off too if I don't want to get sick," Rachel suggests awkwardly, "Maybe you could, um, turn around?"

"Yeah, um, yes, of course," Finn almost trips over his own feet as he turns around, screwing his eyes shut tightly.

He hears rustling and then, a short while after, giggling, which makes him open his eyes curiously.

"You can turn round now, Finn," Rachel tells him, and he does, looking down to see her huddled in their sleeping bag.

"Feeling warmer?" he asks, checking his jacket and discovering that it's both warm and dry. He holds it out to her and she smiles gratefully.

"You, um, might need to turn around again while I put this on. I've never been able to afford a bra," she blushes, uttering the last word in the tiniest whisper, her cheeks scarlet with embarrassment.

Finn spins around again and tries really, really hard not to imagine Rachel's boobs.

"Done," she announces, watching him turn back and crouch next to her.

She's still shaking with cold, even though she's swamped by his jacket, and Finn reaches a hand out to stroke a few strands of wet hair off her face.

"Would it be weird if I got in too? Just to warm you up, you know. Like normal," he keeps his voice as casual as he can. It's nothing unusual for them to share the sleeping bag – they do it every night – but Rachel is wearing significantly less clothing than usual and Finn's jeans are actually still damp from the storm which means he'll need to take them off if he wants to avoid making her even colder again.

"Sure," Rachel smiles easily and unzips the side of the sleeping bag enough for him to get in.

He slips off his jeans and lays them out flat by the fire, then slides in next to her, zipping them both in expertly. When he finally shifts around to get comfy, he wraps his arms around Rachel and she presses herself against his chest, their body heat beginning to keep them both at a comfortable temperature.

Finn kisses the top of her head and listens to her breathe against his chest.

"You scared me so much today," he murmurs, "I really care about you Rachel."

Her eyes blink softly and meet his.

"I really care about you too," she admits, a gentle honesty in her voice.

It's quiet as they lie there, looking at each other, savouring the feeling of their bodies pressed together. Finn does his best not to focus on that part, but it's not an easy task, considering how close his junk is pressed against her.

Rachel shifts a little, trying to get comfy, and her thigh brushes right against him, making draw in a sharp breath.

"What?" she asks innocently, her eyes full of concern.

"Nothing," he answers quickly.

He sees her eyes drop down furtively, then her confused expression is suddenly replaced with a mixture of understanding and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry."

"No, um, don't be."

He wonders if that was a bit too forward. Rachel is, understandably, very wary about personal boundaries, so Finn is always so careful about how far he goes when they kiss. Even their hottest makeouts have still been restricted to a very gentle grazing of her neckline and the occasional hands wandering for a moment over her dress, before he forces himself to gain control before he scares her.

She doesn't look like she minds his response though. Instead, she ducks her head and mumbles,

"I don't really know much about sex. Santana told me the basics but I don't … I haven't…" She trails off, pressing her head into his chest with embarrassment.

Finn kisses her head lightly, keeping his lips against her damp hair as he thinks. He doesn't know how long Rachel's been out here, but almost certainly she's never had a sex talk in health class in her life. It's a weird thought, and he suddenly feels an overwhelming rush of protectiveness and, well, love for her.

That's a thought he hasn't let himself ponder on too much. His feelings for Rachel are like nothing he's ever known before, and a funny nervous feeling runs all through his body when he thinks about being _in love_ with her. But maybe that's what this is. This never-ending desire to hold her and to shelter her and to keep her close every second of every day. Maybe that's love.

"Rach?" he whispers, keeping his head against hers, "Do you trust me?"

She nods.

"I don't trust anyone. But I can't help it when it comes to you."

Her voice is fragile but beautiful, and her face is the same when Finn pulls back a little so they're level with each other.

"I want to make you feel good," he tells her, studying her eyes intently.

"You already do."

"No… I mean, _good. _In a different way."

Rachel swallows, her eyes flickering rapidly.

"I don't think I'm ready to do _that_," she whispers.

"Not all the way," Finn promises, "I'm not going to hurt you. This is… different."

Rachel hesitates, her uncertainty plain on her face until she looks boldly back into his eyes, nodding slowly.

"Please be careful."

"Just stop me at any time you want," Finn tells her gently, kissing her nose.

Their breathing grows heavier as he holds his lips against her face, then slides them down to capture her lips. It's heart-melting and slow at first, then their kisses morph into something powerfully and electrically charged.

This isn't new to them, and their tongues quickly tangle in that familiar way, both of them savouring the contact. They're breathing hard when Finn draws back a little and meets her eyes, holding her vulnerable chocolate gaze as he gently undoes the zipper on his jacket, revealing her naked body underneath.

She's stick-thin, but somehow still so beautiful. Her petite breasts rise and fall with her shaky breaths, and Finn pauses for a moment before raising his hand to cup one, stroking his thumb over the nipple.

"Okay?" he checks.

Rachel lets out the tiniest whimper in response, and he takes that as a signal to continue, slowly sliding his mouth down over the hollow of her neck to her chest. He's working her up gently, making sure she's absolutely comfortable before he tries anything else. Judging by the whimpers she keeps making, he seems to be getting it right.

His mouth moves back up to her lips again, his hand continuing to rub her breasts. Rachel instinctively shifts her legs, pressing herself against him. Finn knows it's okay to continue, and he lets his hand trace the line of her stomach, skirting the edge of her panties, keeping his lips firmly attached to hers all the while.

"Finn," she moans quietly against his mouth, kissing him more fiercely.

Carefully, he dips his hand below the elastic, his fingers feeling their way down to the soft folds of her skin, damp with arousal. His fingers part them, and he slides one up the warm slit, making her whimper again and press herself into him.

Finn blows out a long breath, calming himself down and forcing all his concentration on Rachel, on how he's making her feel.

"Finn," she whispers again, more urgently this time. Her breathing is shallow against his face and he glances up to see her eyes fluttering as she tries to look at him through her haze of arousal.

She's warm and wet against his fingers and her chest is rising and falling quicker and quicker as he works them against her. He slides the pad of his thumb up to press against her clit and she gasps sharply, arching her back.

"Finn – something's happening – I need –" her voice is unsteady, breathless.

He keeps going, kissing her again and working his hand against her, feeling the tension in her body rising.

Suddenly, Rachel's eyes screw shut and she clenches her fists, her mouth opening silently at first. Her body goes rigid and a forced moan escapes her lips as Finn feels her climax against him.

Gradually, her body relaxes, and she opens her eyes, breathing deeply.

"Okay?" Finn asks her again. She laughs shakily and kisses him.

"Amazing."

Finn's still rock-hard against her leg, but he imagines dead kittens and that time he hit the mailman with his car to calm himself down. The last thing he wants is to pressure Rachel into feeling like she has to do something for him if she's not comfortable with it. Baby steps, remember?

"I liked that… a lot," Rachel admits, her face still flushed.

"You're even more beautiful when you're happy," Finn tells her, pulling her closer against him.

* * *

**So, this was kind of a fluffy filler, but there's still that mystery of Rachel's past hanging over them... you'll find out more about that soon! Your reviews, as always, are much appreciated!**


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